Saturday, August 09, 2008
Dad and His Friend Fran
My father's still in Philly -- we're waiting for a low-income apartment to open up in Reno -- and his friend Fran is visiting him to celebrate her birthday next week. They've known each other about twenty years and have been an off-again on-again couple, although right now they're just best friends; they talk on the phone every day. Fran was my father's first mate and only crew when he brought his wooden sailboat from Chicago to Mobile, Alabama via rivers and inland waterways, an epic adventure that began in 1989 and lasted nine months, instead of the three he'd planned.
Today my sister drove Dad and Fran to Hopewell Junction, New York, to see a house where my family lived before I was born. I've heard stories about this place my whole life; everyone's nostalgic for it. My parents' and sister's years there were a kind of golden age. My sister drove Dad up there a few months ago, and he was incredibly moved by seeing the house again, but also sad.
I love this photo, even though he looks a little sad here, too. But he also looks pretty darn good for eighty-six!